Transformers: The Golden Age
by The Bennus
Summary: A fan fiction set before the outbreak of the great war, contains elements from an old TF Text story taken from one of the annuals. Story by Ed, all the rest by me. Soon to be a fan comic!
1. Chapter 1

TransFormers

'The War Within

The Golden Age 

It hangs there, glistening in the eternal night of deep space. Light reflected from the binary star system of Alpha Centuri gives this celestial orb a golden gleam, but its myriad spires and domes, seen in a more neutral light, are more silver and grey. The planet is given this glow from its metal covered surface, a deceptively unnatural surface. Everything, from the buildings to the planet core, not least the inhabitants of this unusual sphere, is made of metal. And there is life here, metallic life that has sprung up in this evolutionary niche, able to exploit unique abilities in thriving in this environment. This is Cybertron, home to the Transformers.

Deep within a research facility, two of these beings are in conversation. Both of them are predominantly white, with red flashes on various wing-like appendages, but there the similarities end. One is taller by quite some way, and has the air of an academic about him. The other is sleeker, with a wry, intelligent look about his face. Both are at ease in each others company, as they discuss the objects on the worktable in front of them. Looking down at his companion, the tall one spoke.

"You know, Starscream, I'm surprised you can even find the time to come here anymore…"

Starscream looked up and smiled, tearing his gaze away from the bulky objects in front of him.

"Why's that?"

"The rumours coming out of Tarn, for one thing."

"Rumours, Jetfire? I've heard no rumours."

"So the increase in tensions between your Vos and Shockwaves Tarn are complete fabrications? Shockwave's been petitioning the High Council in Iacon for nothing?"

"Well, you know Shockers. Always complaining about something."

Starscream looked back down at the workbench. Upon closer inspection, it looked like large booster jet rockets, and various armoured pieces.

"Just what is all this, anyway?"

Jetfire smiled. If his old friend wanted to change the subject so obviously, then he would indulge him. Politics could wait. Besides, this gave him the chance to explain his latest plan in an ever-growing obsession.

"A new heavy armour prototype. Made from an experimental alloy, three times as strong as titanium, but only as heavy as steel. It fractures easily though."

He pointed at the exhaust on the rockets.

"You see these boosters? These should fit together on the armour, and together give me the strength and power to reach escape velocity. Just think," Jetfire gazed into nothing, eyes fixed on something only he could see, "interstellar exploration is within my grasp…"

Starscream looked at his friend affectionately.

"Head in the stars as always, hmm?"

The two of them chuckled, as Jetfire dragged himself away from his vision. Shaking his head, Starscream frowned to himself.

"You'll have to make me some. Life's getting a little boring recently."

Jetfire shook his head in wonder at these words.

"You? Bored? You're in charge of the third largest city state on Cybertron, Shockwave's watching every move you make, Iacon's threatening to side with him, and you're _bored_?"

Several hundred miles northwards lies the city state of Iacon. Capital of Cybertron, all the rules and regulations and set and enforced here. Traditional home of all the seats of power, from the High Council, to the Primes right down to the Senate and House of Lords are seated here. Centre of learning, technical excellence, music and the arts, Iacon is the jewel in Cybertrons glittering crown.

Currently the High Council was in session. The Council consisted of ambassadors from the four largest City States (Iacon, Vos, Tarn, and Kaon), an elected High Councillor, his two seconds(the Emirate and General of the Security Forces), and a representative from the Council of Elders, who, though unelected, also holds the title of High Councillor. Nominally above all them was the Overlord, a very old Transformer who was accompanied everywhere by his two bodyguards. No-one was entirely sure how old he was, but it was common knowledge that he needed almost constant maintenance else his body would fail. The elected High Councillor was Tomaandi, into his second term of office, and an astute political thinker. His seconds, Emirate Xaaron and General Traachon, had been chosen for their diametricly opposite personalities. Xaaron was quiet and thoughtful, and considered wise in theological matters. He had the ability to gauge and communicate well with the rank and file 'bots. He was also a realist, who seemed to know that violence was sometimes nesaccery. It was on Xaaron's suggestion that the State Games had been introduced several cycles before. On the other hand, Traachon was bombastic and loud. This often lead people to think he was not as intelligent as the rest of the Council, but he was nearly a match for Tomaandi in political thinking. Despite being head of the Security Forces, Traachon was an avowed pacifist, and always saw violence as a last, distasteful resort.

On the screens around the walls of the High Council Chambers, footage was being shown of troops in the blue colours of Vos undergoing weapons training. The footage was shaky and grainy, as though it had been filmed from a distance, by an amateur, and subsequently enhanced. A robot stood in the middle of the floor, addressing the Council. He's tall and thin, with one hand replaced by a cylindrical multi-purpose, x-ray beam emitter. His face is missing, the only thing in hexagonal shaped front of his head is a circular eye, that flashes in time to his speech, which is calm and measured.

"Honourable Councillors, I have come before you to ask why Vos has been allowed to build such a sizable army, in complete contravention of all our treaties and laws, and has yet incurred no sanctions?"

High Councillor Tomaandi glanced General Traachon, who nodded imperceptibly, before replying.

"My Lord Shockwave, we have received no evidence no evidence that Lord Starscream is creating such an army. All our intelligence points to a peace-keeping force smaller than your own."

"The footage I have brought before you today, surely-"

Tomaandi cut him off.

"Could have been forged, filmed within your own walls. My Lord, there is no rational reason for Vos to build an army. All disputes that cannot be solved in council or by reasoned debate are settled in the State Games. You know this."

"Indeed, but-"

"There are no 'buts', Lord Shockwave. Peace has reigned on Cybertron since the time of the Twelve. We will not risk potentially dangerous sanctions against a member state of this council, until we have concrete evidence. Do you understand?"

"Very well."

Shockwave turned on his heel, and stalked out of the room. The council watched him go, and all was silent until the doors slammed shut behind him. Then, slowly, Emirate Xaaron spoke. He was a golden robot, with a segmented mouth piece, and one of the most senior members of the council.

"All the same, I feel we should keep an optic on Vos," he eyed the other council members warily, "I do not trust this Starscream."

General Traachon looked across at Xaaron.

"You're getting paranoid in your old age, Xaaron. Shockwave is just trying to get some revenge because his teams keep losing in the Games. Once he gets some victories under his belt, this will all die down."

Outside, Shockwave was striding down a darkened corridor, thinking hard. If only that damned Council had listened, this would all be so much easier. Vos' power was beginning to rival Tarns, and that was something he could not allow. Starscream had proved to be far more capable than foreseen, but he was the one dragging Vos up by its thrusters, his lieutenants not as capable as he. So, if Starscream were… removed, then Vos would lose its impetus, and Tarns power would be unmatched. Slowly, he raised a communicator to his face.

"Alpha Team, you are go. No mistakes."

Later on, as day turned to night, Starscream approached his penthouse suite in Vos' Ruling Tower. Far below him, the inhabitants of his city went about their business, for the first time in along time, proud to be from Vos, to call Vos their home city. Productivity was up, crime was down, and the economy was booming, and it was all Starscreams doing. But now, here, tonight, he gained no satisfaction from these things. He thought of Shockwaves scheming, and then with longing of Jetfire and his dreams. He'd been like that once too, as the two of them came up through the academies together, becoming firm friends in the process. But somewhere, his dreams had gone, replaced when he'd stood for election to leadership of Vos. Where the drive had come from, he knew not, but he'd got himself elected and now the running of a City State had taken him over. He felt so very tired. He wondered, briefly, when it had all gotten so serious.

Transforming back into his robot form, he landed on the balcony he had designed and installed specially for that purpose. As he walked through the door, he slapped the light switch. Normally this would activate a sophisticated array of mood lighting and spotlights highlighting a tasteful assortment of arts and sculptures. Tonight, however, it activated nothing.

Perplexed, Starscream turned and frowned at the switch. Behind him, the doors to the balcony swished closed. Spinning around and looking into the darkness, he felt the need to speak.

"Who's there?"

There came a small thump behind him, the sort of noise that someone walking in an unfamiliar room and walking into the furniture might make. His eyes widened, but before he could turn around again, he was forced to the ground by a much larger figure. Scrambling around under the stranger, Starscream tried to make out who it was. The landing seemed to have momentarily stunned his assailant.

"Who are you? What do you-"

Shaking his head and regaining himself, the stranger picked Starscream up and flung him at the wall. Hitting it with enough force to go through it, Starscream landed clumsily, and before he could regain his balance the stranger was on him again, raining blows down. Reacting instinctively, Starscream transformed into his jet mode, throwing the stranger off him. Transforming back, he bolted for the door, only to find another large figure waiting for him. Changing direction, he headed for the balcony instead. Smashing through the doors, he leapt skywards. He felt a brief moment of elation, _Yes, I've got out!, _that was quickly snuffed out as he felt a hand grip his ankle. Terror and instinct took over again and he transformed back into a jet. His thrusters ignited, and the second assailant fell back, his face a twisted mass of melted metal. As Starscream began to move away from the tower a massive shape came through the window, and transformed into the first attacker. He landed on Starscream and began once more to land punches on Starscreams frame. Starscream spun and twisted, dancing through the night skies, trying to shake off his attacker, but he seemed to be welded to Starscreams back. He suddenly felt a sharp pain, and realised with horror that one of his turning vanes had been broken. As they careened towards the ground, Starscream last remembered transforming back into his upright form.

Starscream staggered out of a darkened alley, stumbling back towards the Ruling Tower, leaving behind him a slowly expanding shiny pool. He was clutching a long sharp piece of metal; it was shining, almost reflective, but dripping a black, glistening substance. His eyes seemed glazed over, and he was muttering to himself. The streets seemed curiously deserted, and there was no traffic overhead either. Occasionally he would glance at the shard in his hand, grimace at it like it was something disgusting and make as if to drop it, but then would slowly pull it close again…

_What...what happened? How, why did that happen? I've never lost control like that. Who was he? Why was he in my quarters? Why did I kill him? Why? Who am I? Did I really do that? But I had to... He would've killed me... But... I feel so alive... More than I have in vorns... He would've killed me... And the other... The other... The other's still out there... Still looking for me... He'll kill me... Kill me... Unless I kill him first..._

Starscream looked up at the tower, and focus came back into his eyes.

The door to the penthouse apartment slid open, and a dark shadow slid into the room. Its red eyes slowly scanned the room, taking in the smashed walls and windows, and noted the lack of a body. Sophisticated tracking systems kicked in, recording the ambient temperature and places where the heat residue spiked, and deduced that the target had made its escape via the balcony in a airborne mode. Letting the sensors lead him, Starscream followed his second attacker into the night sky.

From the air, at night, Cybertron is virtually indistinguishable from the depths of space that surround it. The lights of the various cities could be stars, and the large natural landmarks, such as the Sonic Canyons, could be nebula, or distant galaxies. Some things do give it away, however. Night-time traffic, moving in prescribed lanes, far to regulated to be natural. Or, in this case, the zigzag flight path of a single aircraft. There seems to be no logic to its progression, and yet, it seems to be drawn towards a cluster of light and noise, far busier than most other places for miles around, drawn to the commotion like a moth to a flame.

The Grand Stadium in Iacon lives up to its name. Bigger and more impressive by far than its nearest rival, the Millennium Stadia in Tarn, with grand neo-classical architecture and unrivalled viewing access, the Grand Stadium harks back to a time when civilised games were held. Of old, Transformers would pit themselves against competitors in games of skill, and challenges of strength and speed. Honour and sportsmanship were the bywords of the day. Now, however, all this has changed. The competitions are designed to suit the lowest common denominator, and the stadiums of Cybertron resound the cheers of bloodthirsty crowds, willing pain and even death onto the competitors within. Tonight sees a new champion, one whom the people adore, taking another step towards ultimate victory.

"MEGATRON! MEGATRON! MEGATRON!"

A silver bodied warrior stood in the center of the Arena, holding an axe over his head, gazing down impassivly at the yellow robot lying beneath him. The yellow robot's arm was twisted awkwardly behind his back, an expression of acute pain on his face. His was holding his good arm up, in an attempt to ward off the oncoming blow.

"MEGATRON! MEGATRON! MEGATRON!"

In the tunnels below the arena, a figure staggered forwards. It clutched at its face, grunting occasionally. It looked up at the sign painted on the wall and headed towards a junction. It stiffened as another figure stepped out from around the corner, hunched up and ready to pounce. The second figure spoke.

"Hello again."

The first pulls a gun from behind his back, but is slowed now by the injury and loss of vital fluids. By the time his gun arm was facing forwards, Starscream had transformed and was racing effortlessly down the corridor at him. Effortlessly evading the shots that he did get off, Starscream changed back to robot mode and flared his opponent with his thrusters again, and using the moment of panic as the other instinctively grabbed for his damaged face, wrenched the blaster from his hands. Jumping back a pace, Starscream fired a shot into his assailants' chest. Pushed back by the force of the blow, the other turned to run. He never made it. One shot flared in his back, another in his neck. A second to the back punched a hole right through him, and he dropped to the ground. Starscream walked over to the body and emptied the blaster into it, noting with a sort of detached amusement how the corpse twitched.

"Oh, bravo."

It was a voice from behind him. A cold, high voice, with an edge of mocking contempt to it. Starscream whirled around, pointed the gun, and, without thinking, pulled the trigger. It just clicked.

"I don't think you should try that again."

The source of the voice was a tall, athletic silver robot. It had an air of controlled power about him, and an intimidating aura. Starscream pointed the blaster away.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The silver robot smiled, and nodded his head upwards.

"Didn't you hear my public earlier?"

"Megatron? Is that you?"

"Oh yes. And I know who you are, _Lord_ Starscream."

Megatron accented the word _Lord_ just enough to indicate his contempt of that title, but not by enough to be insulting. All the while, his eyes never left Starscreams, that mocking smile playing about his lips. Starscream was starting to panic now. He'd heard the stories of Megatrons prowess in the arenas of Cybertron, and knew that in hand to hand combat he stood no chance. More than that, he'd just killed another Transformer here, and if the news of that got out Starscream could kiss his position of power goodbye. An inner voice screamed at him: _Just how much did he see?_

"What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much." Megatron walked over to the corpse, and turned it over with his foot. For a moment they gazed down at the ruined body in silence. "I can… remove this, if you wish. Also, I had just thought you might like to know who he was. Of course, if you'd rather not know…"

Starscream frowned at Megatron, wondering what he would want for his help and silence. But then the thought of finding out who had done this, more importantly, who had arranged this, slammed into his mind, and doing something very similar to this to them, and the rage took over again. All the stress, all the boredom, all the worry and frustrations were gone, and all he wanted was revenge, to inflict some sort of pain on whomever had set this up, and it was the best feeling ever, one that he didn't want to ever end…

"Who? Tell me!"

"Of course, my Lord." Megatron looked down again. "He was called Snapdragon, and he was a tryout for the Tarn Arena team. I haven't seen his cohort Apeface around tonight either. They usually-"

"Tarn?"

The thought whirled in his head. Tarn? Oh, of course! Now it all made sense. Who else would have the power, the resources, the desire to eliminate him? Who else could have arranged it? The answer was so simple, why hadn't he thought of it before? He hadn't been thinking at all, not really, not since the attack earlier. His eyes narrowed, and he all but growled the name.

"Shockwave."

Megatron watched Starscream run off without another word, a broad smile playing across his features. When Starscream was out of earshot he said almost to himself,

"Primus does work in mysterious ways…"

And the sound of his harsh laughter boomed and echoed around the cavernous underground.


	2. Chapter 2

TransFormers

'The War Within

The Golden Age: 02 

The Subcouncil building in Tarn towered over most of the rest of the city, casting its shadow across all aspects of life there. Normally the building was an area of calm, almost detached from the concerns of the citizen's day to day lives, much like the being who ran it. It was all sharp clinical lines, not a spare centimetre of material wasted, and almost completely unadorned by decoration. The only thing approaching a personal touch was in the shape of the letters over the entrance. Today however, its serenity was broken, as a window, high up on the east face, shattered inwards.

From his office, from where he controlled every aspect of his population below, Shockwave looked around as the alarms blared. On the viewscreen facing him, a datatrack was playing footage of troops in training, wearing the colors and insignias of Vos. He stood up and faced the door, just as it flew open, dropping off one of its hinges. The screen froze. The person responsible stood in the doorway, glaring at Shockwave, taking a moment to assess him. Then the firearm in his arm whipped upwards, pointed at Shockwaves head.

"Shockwave…" the shadow growled.

Shockwave took a step backwards, as the figure strode into the room. In unison the two of them moved back across the office until Shockwave's back touched the opposite wall. Still the shadow kept coming, until they were nearly eye to eye, and then Shockwave became aware of the unpleasant feeling of the nuzzle of the pistol nestling up to his chin. Shockwave managed to gasp out the intruders name.

"Starscream?"

The voice that replied had taken on a different tone from the one Shockwave knew. Before it had been measured, polite, almost shy, but now it seemed harsher, almost mocking, as Starscream sneered at him.

"Nice try, Shockwave. Next time you want me killed, try to hire some professionals, at least they…" he stopped, and gazed around at the screens showing the frozen image of the trooper. "What _is_ this?"

Shockwave took advantage of Starscreams distraction to move away from him and regain his composure. The brief moment of panic was gone, and when he replied his voice was flat.

"This, Starscream, is trespass, and assault upon my person. Guards," several large Transformers appeared in the doorway, "escort Lord Starscream out of my city."

Starscream looked from the screen to the guards, and then back to Shockwave. He shrugged, and surrendered his gun. Turning, he walked out. As he passed the guards, he peered at them and with a little nod and a tight wolfish grin to himself, left the building.

Shortly before Starscream exited the Subcouncil Rooms, a black aircraft transformed and landed next to an alley opposite the Subcouncil. Ducking into it, he looked around for the person he was supposed to meet. Spotting him further back, he crept over to the darkened figure until he was close enough to whisper.

"Well?"

Despite the whisper, his voice still came out rough. The person he was talking to gestured for him to wait. Finally as Starscream walked out the doors, and turned away, head down, thinking hard about something, the second figure turned

"Skywarp, you can tell Megatron that his plan seems to be proceeding adequately."

"As good as done, Soundwave."

And with that, Skywarp closed his eyes, and disappeared.

An arena, after the crowds have left, is a lonely place. The chants, the battle, the sound of metal on metal, of energon being spilled, the sheer _bloodlust_, has gone, replaced by a calm serenity, an eerie emptiness. The arena accepts this. It knows that soon enough its thousand of stands will be filled again. The noise will be back. Its reason for being will have returned to it. Meanwhile, it waits.

But even in this lonely place, life can be found. Some are reluctant to leave the arenas comfort. For some, the arena is the only home they know. For others the solitude is an ideal time for thinking. For _planning_.

For Megatron the planning is done. The plans are free now, moving around the open world, pushing, prodding, gently nudging the pawns in his scheme to their appointed positions. Megatron has made sure that his hand is not seen in any of this. Only a select few, chosen after years of observation and careful grooming know of his schemes, and of them, none know just how far these plans reach.

No-one outside his circle would even suspect Megatron of harbouring such plans. To the outside world Megatron is nothing more than a thug. A talented thug, an exceptionally strong thug and certainly intuitive in battle, to be sure, but a thug nonetheless. Feigning patriotism to his home state of Vos, he has allowed himself to be bested several times in the arena, so that none can gauge his true strength, to allow potential would-be adversaries to think they could best him, so that when the time comes, they will be completely unprepared for his true abilities.

Megatrons plan is _perfect._

Under the arena in Iacon Megatron watches as Skywarp relays his message. His eyes narrow, and his wolfish smile plays across his lips.

"Excellent…" he turned to the only other person in the room and got to his feet. As they began walking out of the room, Skywarp nodded his head in respect at Megatron, risked a quick thumbs up to the other, and, with a 'VOP', teleported away. Megatron glanced down at his companion. He was a full head shorter than Megatron, and bore superficial similarities to Skywarp and Starscream both. The most glaring differences being that he was blue, and that he moved with less confidence than the other two, clearly less at ease in the company he was keeping. Megatron noted this, and laid a comradely arm around his shoulders.

"It is time, Thundercracker. With you, our opening gambits begin. When our histories are written, there will be a special place for your name, my friend. Watch over Starscream, point him in our direction. With Shockwave already under Soundwaves influence, events move our way at last. Go now, and play your part well. All we need is a little time…"

Smoke was still issuing from the penthouse suite Starscream lived in. He was approaching it now, going quite slowly, thinking hard about what he had seen in Shockwaves office. If he thought about _that_, then he wouldn't have to think about what had driven him there. The adrenaline was gone now, and the nights events were replaying in awful slow motion. He could see his face reflected in the eyes of… Apeface, wasn't it? The sheer animal ferocity of his eyes, as he ripped the fuel pump out of Apeface's chest, pulling wires, and stabbing with that shard of metal that he just couldn't get rid of. He felt it now, resting guiltily in a hip compartment. Reminding him of what he could become. Of what he _had_ become.

A killer.

A cold blooded killer.

Even after Apeface had stopped moving, and the light in his eyes had faded almost completely away, he had kept going. Kept stabbing. Kept slashing and pulling and stabbing until there was nothing left to attack.

No. He couldn't have done it. It was self defence. He had _been _attacked after all.

But he carefully ignored the feelings stirring inside him whenever his mind replayed those images of sheer helplessness on his victims face. Whenever he thought of the oil spilling. Whenever he thought if the metal ripping and tearing-

NO!

I'm not like that.

_He_ came after _me_.

He came after me because-

Because Shockwave had told him to.

Because Shockwave wanted me out of the way.

What if it happens again? I need to find a way to protect myself. I need a way to be _safe_. Something, some way of fighting back-

His musings were interrupted as a blue flash shot in front of him, forcing him down. Shocked, surprised and pirouetting wildly Starscream surveyed his options. Crash or crash land. Rather than either of these, Starscream opted for number three. He transformed and looked around wildly for this new assailant. He didn't have to look far. A blue aircraft with red markings was hovering right beside him. Starscream couldn't help but be impressed. Even as he was diving out of control, this new arrival had kept pace with him. Before he could say anything the aircraft spoke.

"You might want to delay your homecoming for a few moments."

"Wha- Who are you?"

"A friend. Or an… an advisor, say. And my first advice for you is this: Look."

The top half of the ruling tower exploded.

Starscreams eyes widened in shock. If not for this delay, he would have been a lot closer, perhaps even inside.

"My sensors are picking up a life form up there."

Starscream turned back to the blue aircraft.

"And?"

"Maybe whoever it is saw something. Maybe they're responsible."

Without another word Starscream transformed and raced towards the flaming ruin. Sophisticated sensors scanned the building, picking up ID's and other, incidental data. Thermal readings, structural weaknesses, radio signals, and… one ID/spark trace signal that did not register as a denizen of the building, especially this high up. Diving down and transforming he reached into the wreckage and pulled a small robot out by its ankles. Half Starscreams size, if that, this robot had a visor over its eyes and a satchel of some sort over one shoulder. In its hand was a detonator trigger. As he looked at the robot, dangling pathetically upside down, he could feel the rage growing again, could picture himself ripping its arms off. Inwardly shaking his head, he channelled the rage into his gaze, trying to make the tiny robot realise just how much trouble it was in. Holding him up so that they could see eye to eye, he growled at the tiny figure.

"I don't care who you are, vermin, I just want to know who put you up to this."

The saboteur looked up at the ground, several miles above him, and gulped.

"Ah, if I do, you'll put me down, ah, _safely_, yeah?"

Starscream smiled, and began to swing his hand at the wrist. The robot blanched, and gave out a small cry.

"Arrrgh!"

There was desperation in its voice now.

"It was Shockwave! Shockwave!"

"Thanks."

Starscream turned and set off back towards the blue aircraft, pausing only to toss the small robot absent-mindedly over his shoulder. The blue craft, he noted, hadn't moved, nor said anything else. With a wary look in his eyes he stopped short of the other, his mind buzzing with questions. In the end, he found there was only one he needed to ask.

"So, _friend_, how did you know about this?"

It's dark underneath an arena. The fighters are not a gregarious bunch at the best of times, and when a match is looming most prefer to be alone. To see nothing and no-one, to be alone with their thoughts. Most are aware of their own mortality, and some take their time in the darkness to commune with their inner selves, aware that if there is an Ultimate Being, like the Council Of Ancient said, they could soon be meeting him. In some places the darkness is almost solid, and you feel as if you could suffocate in it, that the dark could consume you utterly, that you would never see the light again.

Some Transformers had seen an entirely different kind of light in here.

Closer to the surface, back where you can still feel the wind and hear the crowds, the dark isn't nearly so pervasive. You can still see who's next to you, recognise your team mates. Perhaps as a defence against the dark, some people are louder, more boisterous here. Living life as hard as possible, so that the dark can't touch you.

"These are the CR chambers. Most people need time in here after a fight. Due to all the pipeworks and shielding, the walls are thinner here than anywhere else."

Starscream gazed at Thundercracker.

"And?"

So far, this rather laid-back new 'advisor' of his had taken him around a long and, at times, boring tour of the cavernous underground of the Tarn Arena. Starscream had had no real interest in the State Games, watching beings beat the charge out of each other had seemed rather barbaric to him.

Before.

"Well, Tarns team are a mean bunch. They fight for the fun of it. the financial rewards, the adulation of the crowds… they don't give a damn about that. They're here to hurt other people. And get away with it."

Thundercracker paused, looking over at Starscream.

"And each and every one of them is hand picked by Shockwave himself."

Realisation dawned in Starscreams eyes. Thundercracker nodded, and continued.

"These guys are Shockwaves go-to guys when he's got something that needs doing, and he doesn't want to get his hand dirty."

"But how do you know?"

"Like I said. The walls are rather thin, and Tarns team like to brag. They'll be quieter now though, what with being down by three members."

Starscream stopped in his tracks; the oil froze in his veins. The shadows suddenly seemed much darker. He regarded his 'advisor' with fresh suspicion.

"H-how?"

"We have a mutual friend down here. He's seen what you can do, and you've impressed him. Which, I might add, is not an easy thing to do."

Starscream sagged. Megatron. So, there would be a catch.

"What does he want?"

"To help you. He knows Shockwave is after you, and he doesn't want to see your potential for greatness wasted."

Starscream kept silent. Thinking hard about what he'd heard. Even he knew how good Megatron was reputed to be, and he'd impressed him? And maybe, if Megatron was serious about helping him, maybe he could teach him a few self defence moves? To keep himself safe, and perhaps more importantly, to keep the oillust at bay…

"So, anyway, you coming to the next Games, or not?"

"Yeah," murmured Starscream, "I think I might."

Sitting in the crowd that night, Starscream had seen for the first time how others controlled their rage, their lust for death. Watching them move around the arena, it seemed more like a ballet than deadly contest, and he could see moments where speed and agility would win the day over brute strength. And slowly, the thought grew in his head, _if these morons can do it, then surely I can?_

The crowd roars, screaming its approval of the fight. Night has fallen now, but the spiralling dust is what makes it hard to see. Several weeks have passed, the State Game circus has moved to Altihex, and a new grudge match has been built up. Vos against Kaon. The latest recruit to the Vos team has been taking some verbal attacks from the Kaon camp, and now he has been drawn against Skullcruncher, the Kaons second seed. Skullcruncher is big, strong and confident; he hasn't lost a fight in the last twenty-seven competitive matches. He spins his mace around, whipping up a dust cloud, his preferred opening tactic. Faced with a cloud of biting sand and dust, with a lethal mechanoid somewhere inside it, an opponent will back away; wait for a break in the cloud to see where the enemy is, before striking back. In this time however, Skullcruncher will be backing you towards a wall, every step you take limiting your mobility and vision. It's a tactic which has worked countless times.

But not tonight.

Advancing towards the wall, Skullcruncher allowed himself to savour the moment. This newcomer would soon be a smear on the arena floor…

The Vos fighter knew about this tactic, had seen it used successfully before, had seen all of the desperate countermeasures fail. But he had a plan. He wasn't going to counterattack, or defend at all.

As soon as he felt the wall at his back the Vos fighter jumped. Rising over his opponent he noted the center of the dust cloud, landed behind it and struck out with his blade.

Fighters and spectators alike waited for the cloud to dissipate. Slowly it revealed one fighter one the ground, another standing. As the cloud cleared still further more details were revealed, enough for the crowd to see the winner. With a flourish, he struck his hand into the air, as the crowd took up his name.

"STARSCREAM! STARSCREAM! STARSCREAM!"

Watching from the shadows of the entrance tunnel, Megatron watched Starscream pull his sword from Skullcrunchers back. He turned to Soundwave and Thundercracker.

"You see, Soundwave? Shockwave has awakened a great warrior for us, fast and deadly. Now, all we need is to bring him fully under our wing and we will control Vos. How go things in Tarn?"

Soundwave shook his head.

"Shockwave is proving to be resistant to my suggestions, Lord Megatron. He is more concerned about building his army."

"No matter. If he will not join us before, we will have to take his precious city from him. Vos will help us there. Patience, Soundwave," Megatron looked out at Starscream, still basking in the crowds adoration, "It will all fall to us. One way or another."

As the cycles passed, the fame of Starscream and the State Games grew. Starscream gained a reputation as a clean clinical fighter, someone not given to wasting time with the dramatic flourishes favoured by a Straxus or a Sunstreaker, nor with the outright power of a Slag or a Megatron, but whose agility gives him an edge over most competitors. He began breaking records, for the quickest KO, to the cleanest KO. It seemed to the public that he would spend less time recovering from matches than the other warriors. To the public of Vos he became a hero, and was respected and liked by the people of the other City-States, with the exception of Tarn. Claiming that Vos had attacked a research base on the border between the two City-States, Shockwave began making preparations to retaliate. This border harassment of Vos by Tarn gave Starscreams story a new edge. Public sympathy swung towards him, despite the footage of troops in Vos colours attacking Tarn outposts that soon became public. All investigations by the Security Forces found no signs of destruction on Tarn ground, but plenty on Vos'. Other states began enforcing sanctions against trading with Tarn. The people became poorer, and Tarn's leaders publicly spoke out against Starscream. Iacon remained silent on the matter, refusing to make any public comment or action, breeding more unrest. It was against this backdrop that the State Games came to Tarn.

In a show of goodwill, the Games had been opened to the public for free in Tarn, a move that was greeted with much cynicism by the politicians, but was embraced wholeheartedly by the 'bot on the street. As the night of the Games approached, Shockwave began to despair of ever gaining control of Vos. In his control room he sat alone with his most trusted advisor, a small purple robot, with a mind for figures. His name was Ratbat. Shockwave sat behind his desk, resting his chin on his knuckles, gazing at news feeds about the latest sanctions, and the speculation about who Starscream will be drawn against tonight.

"My plans are failing, Ratbat. How can I dispose of Starscream now? The Council would not act against him before, he survived the assassination attempts, and now his popularity as a State Games fighter prevents any further overt attacks. I tried to bring him down to reinforce my own position, and all I have done is make it even more tenuous. All I can do now is wait and see if Megatron can defeat him in the arena."

"My Lord, Megatron seems almost reluctant to fight him. Why not enter a soldier who can best him?"

Shockwave shook his head slowly.

"No. He has already bested two of our finest. With almost his bare hands no less. I cannot risk any more warriors, else someone may notice that they are the same as the troops I claim are attacking us. Step up the border harassment. Let us hope that politics will distract him from the fight tonight…"

Night fell in Tarn. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and a storm was rolling in over the city walls. The streets emptied as the stadium filled, excited babble and chatter filled the air. More than a few streets away from the arena the city could be a ghost town. It seemed as if the whole town was fixated on the upcoming matches, and that made it easier for the four figures to make their way towards the main power station. Not one of the bigger buildings in Tarn, the power station was constructed mostly underground, to keep noise, pollution and the risks from any accidents to a minimum. Slipping through a newly constructed hole in the fence, the shadows made their way towards the main entrance. It was locked, but that didn't slow them down much. One of the shapes huddled over the lock, there was a shower of sparks, and the door slid open. One of the shadows, a tall lean figure with wings, spoke in a hurried whisper.

"This is where I leave you. Remember your orders. With the games in full swing, there should only be a skeleton security force on tonight. Make Tarn pay for their aggression."

The other three nodded in unison.

"Yessir."

"Good. Now go. And remain unseen."

He turned and walked away. The others turn and slip into the entrance. With a slow careful precision, they move deeper into the station. As they get further in the lighting is replaced by red standby lighting. Hacking into lift controls and door locks, they gradually make their way into the bowels of the plant.

Far away, Megatron looks at Soundwave.

"Are they in?"

"Yes. The insertion went smoothly."

"Good. Now, Soundwave, it is time, I believe, for a concerned citizen to place an anonymous call, warning of a terrorist threat…"

Deep in the bowels of the power station the lift doors swish open. The three robots step out warily, looking around them. One of them, a pale blue mechanoid glances behind them as the lift doors close and it retreats upwards. He frowns and mutters to his companions.

"It would take little effort for me to unleash the power necessary to destroy this place, Blizzard. Why do we creep around in the dark like common criminals?"

A larger white robot answers him.

"Because, Tornado, we have been ordered to. That should be all you need to know."

Turning, he addressed the other member of the squad.

"Here should do, Flare. Lay the charges. I want to be well away from here when it goes up."

Flare, a red and orange robot, crouches and starts attaching a large box to a warm pipe. Without lifting his head, he asked Blizzard the question that Blizzard had been quietly pondering himself.

"You really think this is going to work?"

"It should do. A blatant act of terrorism, with the bombs components all sourced from Iacon. War between Iacon and Tarn will become inevitable. Vos will remain neutral until both city-states are crippled, then move in as the new acting capital. A position that it shall not relinquish."

"By the Primordial Program!"

At the shout the three robots turned to see a shorter, darker blue robot staring at them. For a second all four of them froze. Then the newcomer turned to run, scrabbling at his communicator.

"It's true! Saboteurs from Vos in the reactor!"

That's as far as he got, three blaster shots punching through his chest. As his corpse fell smoking to the floor his comm squawked back into life.

"Message understood. Armed backup en route."

Tornado shot the comm. in frustration.

"Slag!"

He turned to his companions. Flare was hurriedly resetting the timer, as Blizzard eyed the lift. Tornado threw a punch at the wall, which split as steam gushed out.

"Now what?"

Blizzard looked at each of them in turn. They all knew 'now what'. They'd all been briefed. They were just waiting for him to say it out loud, to make it real. He looked at the bomb, watched the last seconds of his life ticking away.

"We hold them. Make sure none of them get close enough to stop the detonation."

For a brief moment night turned to day. Every optic in Tarn turns to the rapidly expanding ball of flame that used to be the main power station. Some wonder what it is. Others, whose grasp of the city layout is better, begin to lift communicators, try to sound alarms. Fire races through the city streets, underground cables and pipes explode from the heat and pressure, and finally, street by street, the lights go out. Artificial day is followed by a night deeper and blacker than any have known. Now the panic begins. People run into the streets, jostling and fighting, desperate to get away from the fires and the dark. In the arena, crowds and combatants alike stampede towards the exits. Only one figure doesn't move, staring up at the sky as explosions continue to shake the ground. A smile plays across his lips, and Starscreams eyes are lit up as if the fires of the very inferno were reflected in them.


	3. Chapter 3

TransFormers

'The War Within

The Golden Age: 03 

"By Primus, it's beautiful…"

Jetfire gazed reflectively at the panorama spread out below him. Seldom before had he felt so relaxed, so at peace with himself. So unlike the harsh reality being played out below him. Currently in his jet form, with large red booster rockets attached to his back, Jetfire was sitting in orbit around Cybertron. He was, he smiled to himself, the first person to achieve escape from Cybertrons gravity under their own power. An achievement to be proud of, to be sure, but… His smile faded. Of what real use was it, in todays world. Jetfire found his eyes drawn towards the stars Cybertron orbited, as often happened when he was feeling wistful and disillusioned with himself.

"Beautiful…"

He dragged his gaze back towards Cybertron. He wondered how much longer he could put off returning. Time, he thought, to put his thoughts into words, to leave a record of what had been achieved here. He activated a recorder, one that would record what his eyes were seeing as well as what his mouth reported.

"This is my world, Cybertron. See how the suns make it shine, glowing like it's a star itself. I often wonder how we came to be here, how our race came into existence. Like an increasing number of others, I feel the Matrix Doctrine doesn't hold true, like it's missing a few essential facts. Withholding, maybe."

He shook his head. Even now, he couldn't just express joy at the scene below him. He started again.

"This is Cyberton. My world. My home. My prison."

Now he smiled again. It was most unlike him to be so moribund. Idly he wondered if his subconscious was trying to keep him up here as long as possible, keep him away from the ground, and the reality he was growing to hate. Trying to gather his thoughts, he was distracted by a flash from the equator, and a sleek form rocketed away from Cybertron.

"Countdown. How I envy him."

Countdown had won a place in Kalis' space program, just before funding was cut so far back as to be non-existant. His was the last mission scheduled for the foreseeable future, to go to the rim of the galaxy and back, try to find signs of life in the cold, distant, uncharted reaches of the universe. He'd never really spoken to Countdown, but knew of his thesis and research on extraterrestrial life. Countdown was the best person for this job.

"I wish I could have gone… but my skills are needed here…"

Jetfire grimaced to himself. _At least, that's what they told me when my application was turned down._ Time to go, he told himself. In the middle of calculating his re-entry vectors, he noticed two flashes of light from the surface. Utilising his enhanced vision capabilities he zoomed in on the objects speeding across the sky. Sophisticated thermal readers and radiation counters spiked into the red, confirming what his eyes told him already. Thermonuclear missiles. Launched simultaneously by Vos and Tarn from the drive trails. Jetfire activated his comm. knowing as he did so that it would be too late for the people on the ground. The missiles passed each other.

"Control, this is Jetfire! Emergency code three-nine-two-eight! You need to-"

The missiles hit.

The light of a thousand stars obscured Jetfire's vision. For long minutes, there was nothing but white light. Finally Jetfire's eyesight came back, filters sliding away. He stared down at the flaming mass below him.

"Oh no…"

Inside the Council pavilions at Iacon, panic and confusion reigned. Voices shouted above one another, clamouring to be heard. Two of the viewscreens above the councillors heads showed nothing but noise, and static kept breaking up the others. A red light bathed the scene in an eerie glow. Sitting higher up behind a raised workstation Tomaandi lowered his gaze behind his steepled fingers.

"Xaaron?"

The gold hued robot turned away from the window, where he was staring out at the twin columns of smoke drifting over the horizon.

"Sir?"

"Are the rescue teams en route yet?"

"Yes. Their ETA is about two hours from now. Kalis' teams should reach Vos sooner. We can't contact any city-states further out than that due to the radiation fallout. Ah, sir?"

"Yes, Emirate?"

"Why has this happened?"

"We don't know. Relations between Vos and Tarn were, well, difficult, but to think they'd go this far…

"Go and await the rescue teams making contact. You will be our man on the scene. I will try and regain order here."

Xaaron turned and, with great restraint, walked out of the room. As soon as the doors slid shut, however, he broke into a run…

Closer to, the impact site resembled nothing more than the gates to the fires of the inferno. A great scar gouged out of the surface of the planet, the metal surface incinerated and vanished into oblivion. Fires blazed uncontrollably, and explosions continued to rock the ground. The smoke, acrid and burning, billowed across the land, scarring and tormenting whatever it came upon. Further out, the ground lay crumpled, pushed up into ripples like a pushed out blanket. The smoke was less dense here, although still dangerous. The fires raged, but sporadically, and much less out of control. Out from under rubble and wreckage injured and deformed people pulled themselves out. Groans and moaning filled the air. Into this nightmarish vision came six robots, grim and determined. They pulled up, and transformed into their upright forms. One, a white and red medic, raised his hand to his mouth.

"By Primus…"

A taller, all red figure placed his hand on the shocked robots shoulder.

"I know, but we've no time for that."

"I'm sorry, Ironhide. But, where do we begin?"

Ironhide turned to the others.

"Grapple, Windcharger, see about moving some of that wreckage. Hosehead, get those fires out. Bumblebee, start scanning for survivors trapped in the rubble, we'll get them out first. First Aid, get your medical bays prepped. I'm gonna contact Iacon," He looked at what used to be Vos, as the others began moving to their positions. "We're gonna need some help."

Days passed. As the rescue teams valiantly fought to rescue the trapped and injured citizens, more worrying news reached the council in Iacon. The council reconvened to hear the reports from the returned teams. The whole room was filled, representatives from every city-state present. Just one seat was empty, the most important seat in the room. A nervous tension crackled through the air. A white robot with red flashes took the floor.

"It was horrific. The whole city-state, just gone. All those people…. We got some survivors but…"

He stuttered into silence. Ironhide, returned from Vos, took up as he faltered.

"Just like Red Alert says, it was exactly the same at Vos, no-one even knows what caused it. They were just going about their business, and BOOM. They don't understand. Do we?"

Xeon, looking paler than those present had ever seen him, spoke.

"This information stays in this room for the moment, understand?"

Everybody nodded in mute agreement.

"It would appear that Tarn and Vos launched missile strikes at each other, at exactly the same time. We never imagined that hostilities had got this bad. Of course, we are doing all we can for the refugees flooding into Iacon, but we will need to shut our borders soon. We just don't have the resources or space. We will need all your co-operation to repair this damage, and accommodate the survivors. Do we have it?"

Again, everybody nodded. Red Alert drew his eyes away from the empty seat that he had been staring at, and spoke.

"Lords, where is the Overlord?"

An oppressive silence fell on the council. The Overlord was one of the oldest Transformers in existence, and needed regular, almost constant check ups and refuelling. He had held the title of Overlord for so long, no-one functioning remembered his real name, and he joked that he couldn't either. Despite the fact that his systems were weak and frail at the best of times, he maintained a rigid control over Cybertrons councils and running, but now… Tomaandi replied breaking the deadening silence.

"The Overlord is safe. He was in Altihex at the time. His bodyguards are escorting him back through Tarn, in the company of two other concerned citizens. They should be back within the week."

Red Alert frowned, and then asked "On foot? Why?"

"It's the quickest way back to Iacon. And all the shuttles are needed moving people and supplies to and from the disaster area."

"Who are the two 'concerned citizens' then? How can we trust them?"

Tomaandi frowned. Red Alert was a good man, and very handy in an emergency, but his underlying paranoia could grate sometimes.

"A records clerk from Tarn, called Optronix, and one of Tarn's games team, called Megatron."

Red Alert relaxed a little at this. _Alright,_ he thought. _Megatron and the Overlords two bodyguards, Nightstalker and Ravage. Three of the most feared warriors on Cybertron. They should be able to handle anything lurking out there. And as for this Optronix, well, he can see to it that the Overlords systems don't crash, and keep him fuelled by sharing his own. Yes, that should be alright. _His musings were interrupted by Tomaandi adding "But I do have some bad news. Guardian Prime was in Vos. He has not been found."

Ironhide's eyes widened. He was in charge at Vos. If Prime hadn't been found, that would make it his responsibility. Suddenly choking for breath, he gasped out the question they all needed answering.

"And the Matrix?"

"Was lost with him. And I must emphasize, _this information does not go anywhere._ The population would riot if they thought the Matrix had been destroyed on top of everything else."

The doors slammed open, and Jetfire burst through, brandishing an optical disc.

"My Lords, I have terrible news!"

The room seemed to sag a little more. People began shaking their heads, other slumped in their chairs. A couple of heads hit desks. Xaaron stood and placed his hands in the air in front of him.

"Try to stay calm, and tell us what is wrong." he said in conciliatory tones.

"Cybertron is, my Lord. The force of the explosions have knocked us out of orbit. We're slowly moving away from Alpha Centuri!"

Xaaron sat down heavily, clutching his head in his hands. _Well, it could be worse, I suppose,_ he thought. _We could be moving towards them._

Weeks passed. The fires died down, but the unrest didn't. Rioting broke out across the planet, in every major City-state. Rumours grew, of the Council hiding the truth of what happened in Vos and Tarn, of manipulating events so that it's nearest political rivals would destroy themselves. And rumours that the Matrix had been lost. The best efforts of the council couldn't stop people from noticing that Guardian Prime hadn't been seen since the explosions. And with the news that the Overlord had died during the journey through Tarn, it was whispered that now, maybe, it was time for change. Time for a less mystical group of people to take charge. Secret meetings sprung up all over Cybertron, gathering force until they all came together. Where once there had been hundreds of small isolated groups, now someone had rallied them, brought them together until there was only one large group in each City-state. It was to a clandestine meeting of one of these groups, in Iacon, that Jetfire found himself at. The idea of abandoning the Matrix doctrines appealed to him, of ushering in a new era of science and peace, of finally being allowed to explore the cosmos that had drawn him here. All these thing were being promised by the leader of this cell. And tonight, the leader of the whole movement was rumoured to be here.

As Jetfire walked through the doors and his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, he looked around to see who was here. A larger crowd than usual, drawn by the rumours. He noted several people whom he recognised, among them some of the more famous State Games warriors, like Grimlock, Sunstreaker and Straxus. With a jolt of surprise he saw Shockwave, leader of Tarn leaning against a back wall. Shockwave had noticed him too, and gave him a slow nod of acknowledgement. Turning back to the raised stage at the front, his eyes widened again. Up on the stage, conferring with a figure shadowed in the wings, was Starscream.

He hadn't heard from Starscream since before the attacks. When his friend hadn't been in touch, Jetfire had assumed that he'd been simply too busy dealing with the shattered remains of Vos' population to deal with personal matters. But now, seeing him here on the stage in front of these people, Jetfire wondered exactly what had Starscream been up to?

Turning to face the crowd, Starscream walked to the front of the stage.

"My fellow Transformers, welcome!"

A cheer went up.

"I will not waste any of your time tonight. Instead, I give to you the person who has made all this possible. The being who will make so much more possible. I give you Megatron!"

As the crowd roared, Jetfire found himself reeling again. Megatron? The warrior who had been assumed lost with the Overlord and his two bodyguards in Tarn? Now organising groups that advocated a new order? Jetfire's eyes narrowed. He didn't like this. On stage, Megatron had begun to speak.

"My friends, the people of Iacon have betrayed you! They knew of the impending destruction of your home cities and they did nothing! They allowed what they saw as their biggest rivals to global power be destroyed! Now who will stop them taking over the whole world? No one, unless we do something! Now is not the time for words. The time for peaceful demonstations has passed. The people in power will not listen! We will make them listen, by force! We will take the power from those who misuse it! We will bring the power back to the people who deserve it! Those people are us! We will bring down the Iacon oppressors! We will bring to Justice those traitors who brought you to your knees! Death to the Traitors!"

The majority of the crowd erupts in a frenzy of yells and cheers. Jetfire shhok his head and turned to leave, but found his way blocked by Shockwave.

"I would like a quiet word with you, Jetfire."

Shockwave then turned and walked out the doors. Jetfire followed him.

The rally continued for several hours, gradually taking the shape of a tactical meeting. Squads were organised, orders given. Long after darkness fell, the meeting began to break up. As the crowd dispersed, Megatron motioned Starscream closer.

"Look at them, Starscream. What a rabble to try and change the world with. And now we have announced more miltant measures, more still will drop out."

He turned to look at Starscream.

"Anyway. To business. You used to work in a research lab in Polyhex, did you not? Before your tenure as City Governor."

"Yes, Megatron."

"Was there anything in there that may aid our cause?"

"Possibly, Megatron. There were several experimental weapons, made for the peace keeping forces, and some surgical enhancements designed for deep space exploration. Once grafted onto a Cybertronians body these give enhanced speed, agility or strength. Some give other, more esoteric abilities."

"Excellent. Soundwave has gathered some of the flock best suited to this task. Take them and attack the labs. Liberate as much as you can. Leave no witnesses."

Bowing slightly Starscream turned and walked away, Soundwave leading him to a small group of figures, in the corner. As Megatron watched him go a shadow spoke to him.

"Is this wise? Putting him in charge of those warriors and abilities?"

Megatron looked down.

"Ah, Ravage. You need not worry. All those present are now utterly loyal to me, and me alone. I have every faith in him."

The research facilities were deserted, save for two figures in the main lab.

"So, what are your impressions of Megatron?"

"I don't trust him, Shockwave. He seems to be itching to get in a fight. And there's something, I don't know. Something wrong with his eyes."

"Certainly he is unstable. But he does speak some sense, Jetfire. Iacon did know of Vos' warring intent. I told them that on many occasions. And he is persuasive. I have heard that he has gained the support of Thunderwing."

"Kalis' head of R&D? He's not the sort of person to trust easy. It took Countdown three vorns to persuade him he wasn't an industrial spy."

"Indeed. So if Thunderwing is with Megatron, and Starscream and the cream of the State Games teams too, then perhaps he is speaking the truth about Iacon. Perhaps he has proof."

"Perhaps. But I went to the Council in Iacon when the reports were being collated. They seemed as shocked as everyone else."

"By then they would have had time to prepare."

"I don't know… Maybe…"

"In any case I must leave. Tarn's survivors need me, and I have spent too long away from them already. We will talk again, Jetfire."

With Shockwave gone, Jetfire sat down at his workbench. He picked up a small light pen, and began to spin it in his fingers, brooding over the nights events. No, Megatron was not to be trusted, he was sure of that much. As for Shockwave, Starscream had told him too much for him to throw himself behind that side. And Starscream. What was he doing with Megatron? There had to be a reason for him to be with Megatron now the Games were finished. Why were they all following Megatron, anyway? He was just a fighter, someone like Starscream would have been better at running a resistance. He'd had the experience of leadership. Megatron was charismatic, sure, but…

With a sigh, Jetfire reached out for his log tapes from his orbital booster flight. With all that had happened, he'd not got around to uploading it yet. _No time like the present_, he thought_, and at least it'll take my mind of all this politics_. He pressed play.

The wall exploded.

Blown off his chair, Jetfire struggled to his feet. Switching one of the monitors over to the security feed, he watched in astonishment as five jets flew down and transformed into robots. All clutching pistols.

"Who-"

The screen exploded in a shower if glass and wires. Whirling round, Jetfire saw first a smoking blaster, then the face of his friend, Starscream.

"Starscream! What's going on? Who are they?"

Starscream stepped through the smoking hole in the wall. His face was twisted by an ugly smile.

"I'm truly sorry Jetfire, but a new power is rising in this world, and I intend to be on the winning side."

Starscream pulled the trigger, and blew a hole through Jetfire's chest. Jetfire collapsed, twitching, to the floor. Starscream turned to the other robots, one of whom was carrying a backpack, who were making their way through the doorway.

"Take any hardware you think will be useful. Kill anyone you meet. I'll deal with the schematics and plans for the enhancements."

He turned to a row of lockers, as the others disappeared.

"Now, there should be some disks or portable drives in here somewhere."

He rummaged through the lockers, turfing out whatever was inside onto the floor.

"Ah, here we are…"

Walking to a workstation, he inserted the disk in the computer and began tapping at the keyboard. After a couple of minutes the screen flashed up the legend DOWNLOADING: Do Not Interrupt Connection. The others returned, arms full of weapons and guns. Starscream nodded approvingly at the haul.

"That'll do," he said, and his eyes lighted on a particular item. "Hmm, a Null Ray. I'll keep that myself."

With a beep, the computer announced that the files had finished downloading. Pulling the disc out of the computer, Starscream pulled some explosives out of one of his cohorts backpack.

"I'll set the charges. I need to destroy this place myself."

The others left the building as Starscream placed the bombs around the room. With that done he turned and set the timer down in front of Jetfires face.

"Goodbye, my friend."

Starscream left. In the silence that was left, Jetfire could hear his report still playing, as the timer counted down the last moments of his life.

"This is Cyberton. My world. My home. My prison."

And then his world exploded.


End file.
